


A Fine Day for a Picnic

by CelesteFitzgerald



Series: Orville, I have a story [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 00:02:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15206405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: Mr. Hippo and Orville have a relaxing picnic in the park, and for whatever reason, Mr. Hippo can't seem to stop talking about balloons.





	A Fine Day for a Picnic

Orville sat in the park in silence. Well, his own silence, at least. Mr. Hippo certainly wasn’t silent, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. With the trickling of the nearby river combined with Mr. Hippo’s commentary on what happens to balloons when they float away, it was shaping up to be a lovely spring afternoon.

Mr. Hippo paused briefly to take another bite of his sandwich. “Mm, now…now where was I? Ah, right, right. Surely the balloons must pop at some point. There’s no way a fragile little balloon could survive all on its own without the protection of the atmosphere. Just imagine, if they _didn’t_ pop, how surprised astronauts would be upon seeing a sky full of balloons as they headed out to space. That-that would be ridiculous. But perhaps it would help brighten their mood…or would it just terrify them? Orville, if you were headed out to space on a rocket ship and you saw a-a fleet of balloons to greet you as you departed, how would you react?”

Orville couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s ever-present imagination. Despite Mr. Hippo’s frequent musings over not being as young as he used to be, he certainly never lost his childlike curiosity—even though, more often than not, people now saw it as eccentric.

“Well, why would someone be sending an elephant into space?” Orville couldn’t help but be realistic. After all, his down-to-earth attitude helped keep the balance in their relationship.

“Ah, I-I suppose you’re right. Of all the animals that might be sent to space, an elephant would be one of the most difficult. But, if a smaller animal were to go to space—a fo—no, a bear, perhaps—what would they think of the balloons?”

Orville sighed. There was no harm in going along with this strange, hypothetical example for a few minutes, he relented. “Well, that depends. What type of bear would they be sending to space?”

“Oh-oh my, I hadn’t thought of that….” Mr. Hippo placed his hand on his chin, drumming his fingers in thought. “You have a point. Who’s to say if every bear is the same? Or if every hippo—or elephant—is the same? I mean, O-Orville, you enjoy rye bread, but that doesn’t mean every elephant enjoys rye bread…speaking of rye bread, you haven’t even touched your sandwich! I specifically made it with rye bread, just for you, and you aren’t even…”

He trailed off when he saw Orville making that expression again—the one with the crooked, half smile and the slight gleam in his eyes to let Mr. Hippo know when he’s forgetting something.

“…I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” Mr. Hippo finally said in realization. “I-I’m sorry, I should remember by now how hard it is for you to hold sandwiches.”

Orville chuckled slightly. He wasn’t upset, really; he still got to eat his sandwich. Mr. Hippo put down his own sandwich and picked up Orville’s, holding it out to his friend so he could take a bite. Orville really did love rye bread.

By this point, the man selling balloons on the other end of the park—who was, of course, the entire reason this conversation had begun in the first place—had given in and handed the crying child next to him a new balloon since his first had floated away.

“Anyway, as I was saying, the balloons must pop. But where do they go after they pop? I-I mean, that man has been here selling his balloons every week, Monday through Friday, and so many children have let go of their balloons. Just last week—Friday, I think it was—when we were sitting by the fountain, that little girl let go of two balloons in a row—what horrible, horrible luck. And yet, not once have I seen a popped balloon fall back down to Earth!”

Mr. Hippo held out Orville’s sandwich to him again, and he took another bite as he thought about what his friend had said. He _did_ have a point. The broken balloons couldn’t spontaneously disappear, so they must still exist…somewhere.

“Maybe the wind, you know, blew the balloons away from the park before they popped,” Mr. Hippo continued. “Then, simply by being at the location of the release, we are preventing ourselves from ever seeing where they land.”

“Should we move our picnic to a different location?”

“No, no,” Mr. Hippo sighed, “you’ve completely missed the point, Orville.”

“And what is the point?”

That kept him silent for a couple moments. “Well goodness, you know, I’m not quite sure. I-I thought I had one, but now…”

Orville smiled at him again. Honestly, he didn’t mind whether or not there was a point to his stories. Mr. Hippo loved to talk, and Orville loved to listen. But if Orville had a chance for a bit of light teasing, who was he to pass up an opportunity to watch a flustered Mr. Hippo scrunch up his face as he tried to organize his thoughts?

The second balloon seemed to have dried the tears of the child, and the man selling them looked content. With his new balloon tightly attached to his wrist, the child ran across the park, rushing past their picnic blanket. Mr. Hippo was still deep in thought, but Orville smiled at the child as he ran by. Whatever had happened to the lost balloons, at least the others were still making a difference.

“The point—I guess the point is to hold onto your balloons tightly, before they get away.”

“I don’t have any balloons.”

Mr. Hippo shook his head in exasperation. “Well, maybe you would if you had just held on a bit tighter.”

“Yes, yes…maybe I would.” Orville laughed quietly and patted Mr. Hippo’s hand as they watched the child enjoying his new balloon. It really was a fine afternoon for a picnic.

**Author's Note:**

> I never thought I'd end up writing FNAF fanfiction, and I certainly never thought I'd write _fluffy_ FNAF fanfiction, but then Ultimate Custom Night and Mr. Hippo happened...his and Orville's pure, wonderful friendship in the midst of all the confusion and fear warms my heart, and I had to write something about them.


End file.
